


Under the X-Ray

by vega_voices



Series: Sleeps with Butterflies [2]
Category: CSI, CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-25
Updated: 2013-02-25
Packaged: 2017-12-03 14:18:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/699164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vega_voices/pseuds/vega_voices
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Do you want to sleep with me?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under the X-Ray

**Title:** Under the X-Ray  
 **Series:** [Sleeps with Butterflies](http://vega-voices.livejournal.com/79902.html)  
 **Author:** vegawriters  
 **Fandom:** CSI  
 **Pairing:** Grissom/Sara; Sara/Doug  
 **Timeframe:** Takes place post _Unfriendly Skies_ and through _Sex, Lies, and Larvae_  
 **Rating:** Mature  
 **A/N:** This one has been keeping me up nights. Hopefully with it being finished and posted, I'll be able to sleep again.  
 **Disclaimer:** Gil Grissom, Sara Sidle, Doug Wilson, and all of CSI are part of the collective possessions of the powers that be at CBS. I do not make any money off of this.

 **Summary:** Do you want to sleep with me?

  
**Las Vegas, 2000**

God he could still kiss. And he still tasted like that hint of old tobacco and the touch of bourbon. He spun her against the door to her apartment, hands pushing at her leather jacket, hers pushing at his. Clothes hit the floor with soft noises – the thump of a jacket, the whisper of a shirt, the thud of a boot.

“Where’s the bedroom?” He whispered against her neck, pulling on her arms. Instead of responding verbally she pushed him away, tripping over her jeans before she stepped out of them. In only her panties, she led him through the door, into the room, and gasped when he came up behind her, grabbing her back against his body. One hand held her in place, molesting her breast, the other slipped lower, into her already soaking panties, and she arched as best she could and spread her legs to give him access. “You feel good,” he said as one long finger stroked lower, and lower, teasing her until she pushed back against him, begging.

“Doug, please …” she moaned, one hand tangling in his hair the other gripping onto his hip. “Please.” But he didn’t listen to her. Instead he pulled back, kneeling while he slid her panties down her legs and she stepped forward and crawled onto the bed.

He all but pounced on her and she responded, rolling under him, her legs opening while he settled between her thighs. For a moment he pulled back and looked at her, a grin on his face. “Tell me something?”

“What?” She slid her hands down his arms, wanting him to just shut up and fuck her.

“Who figured out what really happened on that plane?”

She groaned and took his face in her hands. “You have me naked and willing and you want to talk about an investigation we solved and the feds decided to waive? You really want to do that? Now? Because naked or not, I can lie here and explain to you every single reason as to why four people should be arrested for the death of that passenger and give you detailed reasons as to why you guys fucked up.”

“So _you_ figured it out then?”

“Oh shut up, would you?”

He laughed and raised himself up on his arms. Sara reached up and put her arms around his neck, bringing them close together for a kiss. “Condom?” He asked when he pulled back for air.

“Table drawer. Like always.” She lay back while he fumbled for the silver package but took it from him, ripping it open with her teeth before rolling out the latex onto his cock. This time she pounced on him and pushed him down. While she straddled him, his fingers slid in and out of her body, teasing her until her teeth clenched and her nails were digging into his chest.

“Now, Sara,” he muttered, and she lowered herself down, moving as slowly as her over-sensitized body would allow. He gripped her hips while she rode him, pushing up into her, matching her movements until he tightened and shouted her name. She came moments later, collapsing onto his body. “Fuck,” he whispered. “You’re still good at that.”

“Yeah,” she moaned. “I know.” He laughed and she deflated completely against his body. This was just about perfect. “How long do I have you for again?” She whispered against his chest.

“We’ll see, won’t we, Physics?”

She giggled and bit at his nipple. It didn’t matter how long he was staying. Right now, this felt good.

* * *

_Do you want to sleep with me?_

Grissom hated that she could get to him like that. Of course he wanted to sleep with her. Of course he wanted to pull her into his arms and keep the demons away. He knew how she woke up in the night, screaming and shaking and pleading for relief that he’d never completely understand. He hated that she’d said it like that, right there in his doorway, where everyone could hear. He hated more that he couldn’t jump at the chance to shield her from the Kaye Shelton’s of the world.

What did her facial X-Rays look like? What kind of scarring would show on her autopsy?

He couldn’t shake the look in her eyes, the way she’d stared at Scott. She hadn’t been seeing the man responsible for Kaye Shelton’s death. She’d been seeing her own history, seeing the man who had pushed her down countless flights of stairs and thrown her against so many walls he was sure that her old apartment had outlines of her body in the wall.

Even though logic had told him to reassign her, Grissom kept Sara on the case because he knew she was a professional and the truth was, she had to be able to handle domestic abuse cases. She had to be able to look these men in the face and not see Dan. But maybe it was too soon. She hadn’t even been in Vegas six months and she was facing down men who were indistinguishable from the same man who haunted her dreams. Scott even talked like the asshole.

But it wasn’t the question she’d asked that had him sitting outside next to a dead pig at one in the morning on his night off. It wasn’t Sara’s voice or the desperate need to prove himself worthy in her eyes. It wasn’t even because he knew that her young and handsome ex-boyfriend was in her home right now, sharing a space Gil still considered his. No, it was because she was right. Scott had killed Kaye and if he and his bugs couldn’t prove it, it was just going to happen to some other woman. He hated to admit it might be because right now, Sara was most likely still in the arms of another man, one who had also held her through her nightmares and her cold sweats and known exactly how terrifying Sara Sidle’s life could be at times.

_“Are you going to tell me what happened?”_

_She was sitting on his counter, dressed only in one of his button-down shirts. Idly, she swung her bare legs back and forth, occasionally kicking the counter, while he made breakfast. The musk of sex still hung around them and he was ready to take her right back to bed; her wrists were still red from the tape he’d used to bind her._

_“No.” She slid off the counter and sauntered to the other side of the condo, taking a seat by the open window. Her cigarettes were on the sill and she lit one, taking time to stare at the smoke and the burning ash. Grissom let her be. He hadn’t been able to save her and that guilt gnawed at him. Somehow she’d saved herself, but he knew she’d had someone there for support. Someone who gave a damn. Someone who wasn’t in a completely different city living his own life. Weren’t men supposed to save the women they loved? God he was such a prick. Sara Sidle didn’t need anyone to save her. Not unless she asked, and she’d walk through fire before she asked for help._

_So instead of pushing her to talk, he made breakfast burritos and remembered at the last minute that she wasn’t that big a fan of bacon so he left that off and carved a couple of avocados instead. At least her bruises had healed. When he made love to her, he wasn’t trying to erase Dan from his mind._

_“It was just ugly, okay Gil?” She said, her voice so soft that it took him a minute to process what she’d said. “Just ugly. I got out because if I hadn’t, he’d have killed me. And that’s all I want to say right now.”_

_“Okay.” He waved the plates in her general direction. “Breakfast is ready.”_

_She stubbed out the cigarette and walked over to the table. “This …us … it can’t continue you know. I can’t keep being led along like this.” She looked like she wanted to say more but shook her head and sat down. “Never mind. I’ve come to accept that we’re just fucked up.”_

_Her words settled hard. He knew what he was doing wasn’t fair to either of them, but she was his addiction and he wasn’t ready to quit. Not yet. So he set the plates on the table and sat, pulling her into his lap. She curled around him, her long legs tangling for a moment with the chair, and their mouths made love to each other while the eggs went cold._  
  
He shivered into his jacket, pulled up the collar, and watched the bugs descend.

**San Francisco, 1996**

For the first time in her life, she understood why her mother had stayed with her father.

Even with the rush of life outside, life inside the apartment was silent. Sara stared at her arm, heavy with the plaster cast, wondering how to explain this one to her friends. Only Gil knew and already she was tired of him hovering. The problem was, he was still going back to Vegas in the morning and even though he’d sat in the hospital with her and begged her to come, for some reason she couldn’t justify leaving. Her arm was broken and her only sense of security was leaving but she just couldn’t walk away.

“Sara?”

Gil’s voice sounded so far away. He was worried about her. She could hear it, could feel it in every glance, every confused look, every touch.

“I’m okay, Gil.” She shook her head and looked up at him. The pain killers had worn off but she was still lost in her head, hearing every cursed word, feeling every snap of the sinew in her arm. “I’m okay,” she repeated.

“Come back to Vegas with me.”

“I can’t.” She sucked in a tired breath and faced him head on. “I just can’t. And I can’t explain to you why not, but I can’t.” Her body wanted to cry. Her brain wouldn’t cooperate. So she just stared at him. “And I need you to stop begging me. I need you to accept that I can’t follow you right now. I need that.”

The imperceptible shake of his head told her how hard it was for him to even accept the notion and the part of her that was still capable of being angry wanted to throw things at him. She was her own woman and she needed this from him. She needed him to accept this part of her. She had to do this on her own or she’d never do it at all. Why couldn’t he understand that? Why couldn’t he just accept everything as she needed it to be? Why? “Sara, he’s going to kill you.”

There it was. What they were both refusing to say, right there, out in the open. Sara pushed off the couch and walked to her bedroom, pausing along the way to put her hand on his chest. She crushed the fabric of his shirt between her fingers and looked into his eyes. “Then he kills me, Gil.” She walked the rest of the way into her bedroom, leaving the door open in case he decided to join her. After she stretched out on the bed, he did come over and took a seat next to her, his hand on her back. They sat in silence until she felt sleep overtaking her body. It had been a long day and tomorrow was going to be even longer.

Would anyone believe she’d tripped over her own feet and just fell awkwardly against the car? Maybe she could make up some surfing accident. Something happened on the beach. A fender bender. Would anyone believe that Dan hadn’t been the culprit? The doctors hadn’t. The social worker they’d called in hadn’t. And yet she’d sat there and refused to press charges all the while Gil had ignored the accusing looks from hospital staff and clutched her good hand and was the silent supporter she needed. But she couldn’t just up and run. What would she be doing? Just going into some world where she’d be completely dependent on Gil? She couldn’t do that to either of them. What? Some position would magically open in the Vegas lab and they’d end up as the perfect crime fighting duo and make the Strip safe for tourists? This wasn’t a movie.

She still wanted to go.

So against her better judgment, she turned her head away and stared at the curtains over the window and stayed that way until she finally fell asleep. She never felt Gil come to bed and when he woke in the morning, she pretended to be asleep until the very last minute. When his cab arrived, she got out of bed and went to kiss him goodbye. But she couldn’t say the words. Any of them. And when he held her tightly and tried to keep his voice from breaking as he said good-bye, she almost told the cab to wait. She’d go pack her bag. She’d escape. She saw the door he was holding open. She knew a new life waited on the other side.

Instead she leaned against the doorframe and waved while he got into the cab and drove away. Even still, she had yet to cry.

**Vegas, 2000**

Sara lingered at the edge of the lot, watching him shiver into his jacket. He always thought because of his time in Chicago and Minneapolis, he could handle the colder weather, but the truth was he was built for jungles. He needed the warmth. His knees ached and his back had a tendency to tighten up. Cold weather like this was a trigger for his migraine, not that he’d let it show.

Technically she was on call, and by some miracle her pager had yet to chime, so she was here. She’d dropped Doug at the airport on his way to yet another something or other with the NTSB and come here, to tell Gil the truth. It was the perfect time. She’d never told him what had happened and he’d stopped asking. But she had a feeling that his guilt over leaving her with Dan had started to eat at him. Even more so with Doug coming in with the Feds to look into that murder on the plane – she knew he’d been an accidental witness to her reunion hug with Doug in the locker room - and now there was this case with Kaye Shelton. Every time Gil looked at her, he seemed to be seeing that broken arm all over again and the more he saw her as the victim she’d been in that parking lot, the less he reached out to her. When she’d asked the question, she hadn’t meant it the way he assumed. Because yes, she knew he did want to sleep with her and yes, he was trying to stick to the rules, and yes, he was jealous about Doug. But truth was, Gil did know what it was like for her to wake up in a cold sweat under the blankets, reaching for security that wouldn’t come. His cold hearted dismissal of the past she was still reconciling wasn’t about a lack of compassion for her situation but a reminder that he was hurting too. They had jobs to do and using the Shelton case as an exercise in therapy probably wasn’t the best idea. Yet, here they stood, outside in freezing temperatures at one in the morning when they should both be home asleep. In separate homes of course.

After a moment she walked through the gate, moving close enough to get his attention. The man who looked up at her was, for just a moment, the man from San Francisco. The man who existed before rules and regulations and scrutiny had gotten in the way of a relationship that had been special. The man who had once sat outside with her all night, watching city lights blink on and off, while they shared war stories of their worst cases. The man who brought her pay-day takeout along with physics books and read Fitzgerald novels while they lounged naked in bed. She wondered for a moment, if she’d left San Francisco when he’d asked, would that man have ever gone away?

He pulled over a crate for her to sit on. She smiled and took a seat, pulling out a blanket and tucking it around his shivering shoulders. “Thanks,” she said softly. She knew he wasn’t doing it just for her, but for the case and his own conscience. Joining him would let her sleep at night.

For the first hour, they worked in silence, slipping into routines they’d developed in San Francisco. She took notes, he made measurements, and she tried not to notice that a pig was being eaten by bugs. But, in the second hour, despite knowing it could work against their relationship and drive him even deeper into his head, she started talking.

“Dan put me in the hospital, Gil. And I’m not talking a broken arm.” Silence. She watched the gears move in his head. His head twitched just slightly to the right, a sign of his level of stress. “I was at a bar with some friends,” it wasn’t a good idea to bring up Doug just yet, “and he saw me there with my date.”

“Doug?” Gil’s voice was soft. Hesitant.

“Yeah.” When he didn’t speak again, she took it as her sign to continue. “It got ugly. Honestly, I don’t remember a lot of it. I did throw a punch though and then I was banned from that bar for life.”

He chuckled, but there was a worried sadness in his eyes. “I am proud of you.” A pause. “I’d like to kill the bastard.”

“I know you would.” She sighed and looked down. “Anyway, I woke up and realized that if I didn’t take control, I wouldn’t wake up the second time. And then while I was figuring out how to score a job offer with you, the offer came.”

Again, silence, and she waited for him to say something. Anything.

When he did speak, from behind the safety of his video camera, his voice was cold and angry. “How the hell is this guy still on the streets, Sara?”

“Because I didn’t press charges and neither did the owner of the Rusty Nickel. Anyway, you know how the unis close ranks, Gil.” She sighed and stared at him, not wanting to have this level of judgment passed while she was confessing her shame at not being able to get the guy behind bars. He did deserve it. Finally she stood up and walked over, needing to be closer to him, remembering all too well the conversation where he predicted Dan just might kill her. She slipped behind him, resting her head against his broad back and her hands on his hips. “For some dumb reason, I still couldn’t press charges. I don’t know why other than I was just so humiliated and I didn’t want to get dragged through some internal affairs investigation that was just as likely to clear him as it was to damage my ability to get my job done.”

“And you?” His voice was soft, tight. “Tell me, Sara. You were so messed up when you finally … when you got here. I remember.”

“Concussion. You saw me as the ribs were healing. At least he didn’t break my nose. I’m kind of partial to my nose.” The joke fell flat.

Gil was silent for a long minute before he started to laugh. But it was hollow laughter, born of pain and nothing to do with the relief that she was no longer in the situation. The vibrations rumbled through her and she clung a little tighter to his hips. “I should have thrown you over my shoulder.”

She appreciated the gesture, but her independent streak demanded she argue with him. “What good would that have done? How would that really have changed anything other than transferring my dependence to you?”

He sighed. Sara leaned against him, counting his heartbeats, and waited for an answer.

**San Francisco, 1997**

“Agent Doug Wilson, NTSB. And you are?”

Sara looked up from the pile of debris she was sifting through. The agent stood over her, dressed like most free flying Feds. Jeans. T-shirt. Leather jacket. He had his badge on a chain around his neck and credentials tucked into his pocket. And, like most Feds, didn’t worry about things like evidence collection kits or gloves. No, that was what she was for. Despite the sparkle in his eyes, she wasn’t distracted by the glitter of his operation. “Sara Sidle, CSI. And this is my crime scene.”

He smirked at her and knelt down, taking a piece of the debris from her hand. “Actually, it’s mine. Last I checked the Feds trumped all.”

“Last I checked, we got here first.” She took her debris back from him. “This still needs to be photographed and processed and you aren’t even wearing gloves.” With her free hand she reached into her vest and pulled out a spare pair for him. “Put these on before you contaminate anything else. And, for the record, it’s not my fault you guys move so slowly.”

The smirk remained on his lips but he pulled the gloves over his hands and again reached for debris. This time, he didn’t take it from her hand and Sara dropped the item into an evidence bag, sealed it, and signed her initials to the label on the front. “My apologies, Sara Sidle, CSI. How about we just work together.”

“You mean, I’ll collect and process all the evidence, I’ll extrapolate exactly the speed and trajectory and location of the plane as it crashed – all while you are still hunting for your precious flight data recorder – and then you’ll take all the credit in court?” She stood up and brushed off the knees of her coveralls. He was cute, she had to give him that, in his Federal Agent Cowboy way. Now the question became, was he a typical Fed, having failed and bumbled his way to the his position because no lower level crew wanted to deal with him, or was he one of the few rare and talented agents who actually paid attention in training and didn’t just flash the badge around. Only time would tell and the answer would determine exactly how cute he was because that smirk wasn’t going to get him anywhere with her.

“Well,” he paused, “I mean, I have a job to do here too.”

“And what is that, exactly?”

“To determine what happened to this plane.”

“By doing what, exactly?” She crossed her arms over her chest and kept staring down at him.

“You know, we might work well together if you give me the chance.”

She rolled her eyes. “And you didn’t answer my question.”

He chuckled. “Okay, let’s try this. What do you need from me? How can the NTSB assist the San Francisco crime lab?”

That was more like it. “How good is your team at building planes?”

He chuckled. “That’s all you need from me?”

“For now.” She lifted her camera to her face and snapped a picture of the debris pile before them, but made sure to get Doug in the shot.

He stood up and walked over, taking the camera from her hand. He smelled of well cared for leather and just a hint of the stale smoke that clung to the insides of all police stations – federal or not. “What’s a CSI doing extrapolating trajectories? Don’t you just send that up the food chain?”

“What, you just think I’m out here snapping photos and collecting evidence? Just some mid-level flunky who couldn’t make it with a badge?” He shrugged and she rolled her eyes at him and took back her camera. “Bachelors in Physics from Harvard University. Masters in Nuclear Physics from the University of California at Berkeley. Five years at the San Francisco crime lab, including the second year of my Master’s program where I used what I know in Nuclear Physics to help adapt the way static print lifters do their jobs. Two years in the lab as a tech, and three years in the field, including one year where I overlapped tech and field work. So,” she tilted her head at him, enjoying the look on his face, “who you are actually talking to is one of the more highly sought after forensic scientists in the country. You get me?”

He stared at her and then stepped back and bowed, “My apologies, Ms. Sidle.”

Sara giggled at the gesture and shook her head. “That’s what you get, Fed.”

“All right, Physics Major, I’ll go build you a plane. Anything else I can do for you?”

She pursed her lips together, caught up in the moment. He was fun to flirt with. “Well, let’s see how good the plane is.”

**Las Vegas, 2000**

She sat in his office. It was easier than waiting for him at his condo, knowing he might never show. Eventually he had to come back.

“You should be at home, Sara. You’ve barely slept since this all started. Anyway, don’t you have company?” His voice held that supervisory tone, the one that let her know exactly whose turf she was on. It was getting easier to read the signals, but she wasn’t here as his criminalist. She was here as his lover, and they needed to finish the conversation that had begun back in the parking lot.

“Come home with me,” she said softly. He looked up at her. She shook her head, annoyed. “Doug’s gone, okay?” A pause. “And you have no right to play jealous with me. You’re the one who keeps saying we can’t do … this.”

He took off his glasses and sighed. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you. Now come home with me. You can even sleep on the couch if it’ll make you feel better.”

“If I’m going home with you,” his voice held that hint of a command that made her shiver, “then I am not sleeping on the couch.”

She wasn’t so sure about that. But she just let him have his way while she walked to the door of the office. “You coming?”

“I need to read your report about Warrick,” he pointed to the file she’d left for him. “Wait an hour?”

“Okay.” She didn’t want him to read it now. He’d be focused on his golden boy and not the emotional connection she wanted to make. But whatever. So she headed out and back to her apartment, where she changed into something comfortable and stretched out on the couch, staring at the dusty frames of her artwork. Chances were, Grissom wouldn’t show. He’d get wrapped in to doing something and fall asleep on one of the cots at the lab. He’d assume she would fall asleep herself and they’d continue to drift and she knew he was avoiding learning the truth. Because the truth meant revealing the truth about Doug. She’d never called him anything other than a friend in her emails to Grissom, but he was a smart guy. He was capable of putting names to faces. Especially when he walked in on them kissing in the locker room. Really, that hadn’t been her favorite moment of the week either.

The couch still smelled a bit like Doug; he had spent three days with her after all. Or maybe it was the shirt she was wearing. He’d tugged it off of her and when she found it again, it was under his leather jacket.

She didn’t pine for Doug. Not like she did for Gil. Doug had been good for her, had been that rebound from both Dan and Gil, but he brought his own set of cagey baggage to the game and it was baggage she wasn’t always willing to deal with. Anyway, his off again on again bullshit with that yoga instructor made her situation with Gil seem like a cakewalk. Despite all that, there was a comfort she found with him. He’d seen the worst moment and he’d survived it. And never once had he spilled her secrets.

Her eyes had almost closed completely when she heard the key turn in the lock. Fuck. Well, at least he’d come by. Two hours late, but he was here. Typical Grissom. It was funny. Gil wasn’t like that. Gil was focused and dedicated. Grissom was an idiot who was incapable of handling his heart and his work. She wondered exactly when that had happened. Who had changed him? She was terrified to think it was her.

“I thought you weren’t coming,” she said, opening one eye.

“Sorry.” He actually sounded sorry. “Ecklie cornered me.”

“Good excuse,” she said, sitting up. He kicked off his shoes and joined her on the couch. They went from coworkers to lovers in a heartbeat and when he kissed her and pushed her back into the cushions, she didn’t say no. Not at first. Not until his hand worked its way up under her shirt and tugged lightly at the lace of her bra. “No, Gil.” She pushed at his chest. “No.”

She sensed his distraction, but he pulled back and honored her wishes. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. You know I don’t mind it when you kiss me. But … I wanted to talk to you. And Doug being here at the same time the Kaye Shelton case popped up made it so much … more. It’s why I told you what I did last night.” She gave him a look when he glanced away. “Gil, why does Doug bother you so much? He was good for me.”

“He’s still good for you, Sara.” Grissom shrugged and looked back at her.

“Yeah, he can be.” She tucked her legs up under her and put a throw pillow on her lap. “Gil …”

“What happened, Sara?”

There. She couldn't avoid it any longer.

**San Francisco, 1999**

“Hey, Physics Major.”

The familiar voice made her heart jump and Sara spun on her heel, barely holding on to the bag of evidence in her hands. “Doug!” Of course. She smelled like a dump, she looked like she’d been crawling through a dump, and in fact, she’d been processing a scene at a dump. Even he was wrinkling his nose at her. “What are you doing here?”

“Well,” he looked her up and down, “I was going to suggest lunch. But …”

“Yeah. I’m kind of a mess. Hey, hold on.” She nodded her head back toward the locker room. “Feel free to go hang there? I’ll be done in a second and then we can make plans. For after I shower.”

“Yeah, might be a good idea.” He smirked and headed off to the lockers. Sara tried to calm her stomach. It was just Doug. It wasn’t like his showing up would mean anything other than dinner and some great sex. But he had to show up now? Now? When she was again fighting off Dan’s advances and she was again struggling to say no. She was a big girl. She knew better. But knowing better didn’t make things any easier. Anyway, how was she going to explain away the bruise on the side of her neck? That one had actually been her fault. The sex with Dan had been rough and she let herself get caught up in the moment. God, when he wanted to be good, he could be good. No, she had to stop it. She had to let it go. She had to just, for the love of god, tell him to stay the fuck away from her and then take whatever rumors and bullshit she had to take from the PD and the lab. She’d never filed charges against him. And so what if the women didn’t understand why she wanted nothing to do with him. God. She was such a fucking mess.

Doug. Think about Doug.

She logged her evidence and darted back to the lockers, where the NTSB agent leaned against the one with her name on it. He looked like he always did – leather jacket, perfectly fitted jeans, and a t-shirt dark enough to hide the coffee stains. He wasn’t wearing his badge so …

“Personal visit?” Sara walked in but didn’t get too close.

“Actually home for a while. Thought I’d dust off the pictures on the walls and pop in to say hi.” He flashed her a grin. “You look good, Sara.”

“So do you.” She crossed her arms over her chest, “I could look better if you’d get away from my locker.”

“Oh!” He smirked and pointed at the piece of tape with her name scrawled on it. “This is your locker?”

“Shut up.” Doug stepped away and Sara retrieved a change of clothes and her towel. “I really need to shower. When and where can we meet up?”

“You’re actually single right now?”

She sighed and looked at him. “Are you going to start that up? How is that yoga instructor of yours?”

“Single again.”

“You two really need to figure yourselves out.”

“Says the woman who can’t stay away from guys who do this to her?” He lifted up her hair and sighed. “Sara …”

“Hey, that one wasn’t actually his fault. I mean yeah, I was with him when it happened but sometimes bruises are a part of rough sex.”

“He doesn’t just …” Doug shook his head. “Never mind. I’m not getting into it with you here in the locker room.”

“Thank you.” She pulled back and smoothed her hair down, but not before checking over her shoulder to make sure no one had heard the exchange. “Um, so dinner?”

“Yeah. Thought we’d go down to the wharf. There’s that fish place you like.”

She smiled and started to breathe easier. “Yeah. That’s a good idea.” She smirked, “And I’ll blend in with the smells.”

He laughed and chucked a thumb over his shoulder, “I’ll wait for you in the car, Physics.”

“All right, NTSB.” Sara ducked into the showers before he was even out of the locker room. She needed this tonight.

She found him leaning against his truck, looking every bit the bad boy he pretended to be. He grinned and held out his hand for her to take. Sara glanced over her shoulder, making sure no one was watching, before she leaned in for the affectionate kiss. The last thing she needed was someone telling Dan she was seeing someone else. Just because she told him things weren’t monogamous didn’t mean he didn’t think so. God she was tired of putting herself through his shit.

Maybe she really was ready to break this damned cycle.

“Really, Sara?” Doug raised an eyebrow. “You’re still checking over your shoulder?”

“Can we not go into this now?”

“When can we go into it, Sara? The next time he throws you against a wall? You know, that guy you were dating before, Grissom, he should have just hauled you out of here.”

Again, she rolled her eyes. “But then, Doug, we’d never have met and you wouldn’t have the chance to remind me that I’m an idiot.” She pulled her hands back and crossed her arms over her chest. “You done judging me?”

He rubbed his hand over his face. “Yeah, I’m done judging you. Sorry.”

She just shrugged. He wasn’t wrong. But she didn’t like being reminded of it by someone she cared about. It was hard enough to be reminded by the actions of the people who hated her. “You’re forgiven.”

“Really, you’re okay?”

“Yes.” Sara walked around to the passenger side of the car. “I’m fine.”

“So, the looking over your shoulder was just for fun then?”

“Doug …” Her blood pressure rose just a bit and she leaned against the open passenger door, “I thought you were going to drop it.”

“When you stop showing up with bruises, I’ll drop it.” He raised an eyebrow. “Seriously, Sara. I should throw you in my luggage and take you with me.”

“Doug! This is my home! I’m not letting some idiot with barely a high school education chase me from it.”

“You’re too stubborn.”

“Yeah. I know.” She sighed and climbed into the cab of the truck.

“But at least I finally get it.” He paused and started the truck. “You told that guy of yours? The one you really want to be with?”

“Would you shut up?” She sighed and pulled her cigarettes out of her bag. “Do you mind?”

“Just roll the window down.”

Sara lit the cigarette and then rolled the window down, watching the streets of her favorite city fly by. She’d hate Vegas, with the bright hotel lights and the endless tourists and the lake they had to build in the middle of the desert. She’d hate the commercialism and the idea that nothing that was done there was anyone’s fault. She didn’t like Pinocchio for a reason. Pleasure Island was all too real a story. What, she was going to move to Vegas for Gil? Then what?

But, if he’d just ask again, she would. This time she was ready. But she wasn’t going to pack up and leave without a reason. It was stupid, she knew, but otherwise it felt too much like running. San Francisco was her home. San Francisco was where she’d fallen in love with Gil. What if she moved to Vegas and things weren’t the same? She didn’t know if she could handle it.

The Boston lab was begging her, but she hated the cold. She could make twice the money she did now giving seminars on the concept of how physics reacted with the forensic field, but teaching really wasn’t her thing. She liked getting into the scene, getting dirty, following the experiment from start to finish. It was why she’d gone into the field. There was only so much to learn about the world from a series of equations and experiments.

“Really, Sara?” Doug’s voice interrupted her train of thought, “You’re okay?”

“Really, Doug.” She sighed. “I’m fine.”

“Okay. I’ll stop asking.”

“Good. Because if you ask it again, the night isn’t going to end the way you want it to end.” He laughed. She rolled her eyes at him. “So you’re actually home for a while? What, the feds get tired of you?”

“Actually yeah. Something about use it or lose it vacation time.”

“Until the next plane crash.” She flicked ash out the window. “Where was your last one?”

“Alaska. Little commuter plane.”

“God those things terrify me.”

“They should.” Doug grinned at her. She grinned back. “Always fly commercial.”

“Yes, sir.” She tossed the cigarette butt out the window and leaned back a bit, letting the wind hit her hair. They fell into their own brand of comfortable silence and somewhere between the lab and the wharf, their fingers ended up entwined. When they got to the restaurant he leaned over for a kiss and she gave it, opening her mouth to his questioning tongue. They sat in the parking lot for twenty minutes, groping like teenagers, and it felt good to be wanted not because Doug wanted to possess her, but because he wanted her.

They broke for air and Sara reached for the door handle with on hand while pushing him off her with the other. “Feed me before you get anything else.”

“Ha.” He laughed and got out of the truck. Sara followed, taking his hand as they walked.

Well, Vegas could wait.

**Las Vegas, 2000**

They’d ended up in bed. He spooned against her from behind, his hand under her shirt, warm on her stomach. She dozed a bit; her mind racing faster than her body could lull it to sleep, but it was good to feel the even rise of his breathing against her back. He needed to sleep. Hell, she needed to sleep. But Kaye Shelton weighed on her mind and she was tired of closing her eyes and seeing her father throw her mother down the stairs or feeling Dan’s backhand across her jaw. What had life been like for Kaye? How often were there periods of calm, when the honeymoon returned and Scott was tender and gentle? Had it been a consistent cycle or had it been something that set him off? Dinner being burned? Her makeup not being perfect? A second glance at another man?

Dan had been cyclical, save for when something at work set him off, which was more often than not. But if things were going well, she could time his outbursts almost by the moon. Her perceived misdeeds had rarely been his trigger, but when he was cooking, it didn’t take much for her to go from his beloved princess to a cheating whore. All these months later, finally away from any hint of a chance he’d ever go near her again, there was a part of her that still understood every reason behind his actions. It was so easy for people to say “just walk away” as if feelings didn’t matter. As if the heart didn’t have some connection. She was a cop; of course she could defend herself. But against Dan, for some reason, she’d been powerless. Up until the end. But even then, running had been her only answer. If the job hadn’t come along, she had no idea what she would have done.

In his sleep, Gil’s hand moved up her stomach and grazed the underside of her breast. He huffed a bit and settled back into complete slumber and she pushed back against him, wanting what she hadn’t wanted earlier. But he was out; his breathing so steady that she doubted even his phone could wake him. But now, awake, she felt trapped. His arm was heavy against her ribcage and if she maneuvered him right she could slip away, but it would take more effort than she had stored up. So Sara lay there, trying to control her breathing, reminding herself that she wasn’t trapped. She wasn’t stuck. And if she pulled away and Gil woke, he wouldn’t grumble or grab her. He’d let her go.

Even the old scars were fresh again.

His breath hitched. She held hers, hoping her squirming hadn’t woken him.

“Sara?”

Damn.

“What is it, Gil?”

“What do your facial x-rays look like?” His hand moved back down her front, resting again on her stomach, and for a millisecond, her mind ran through the possibility if what, just one time when they were together, she got pregnant. She loved the feel of his big hand against her abdomen and how he toyed with the barbells in her bellybutton.

“It’s more my arms and my back than my face,” she said softly. “Dan knew where to hit.” She stopped, wondering how much she should tell him about her father. About her life in foster care? But it all seemed so overdone and dramatic. He didn’t need to know everything. Not yet. “But, I also got really good at covering up the bruises around my eyes,” she said quietly. “So, I’m sure if there was an x-ray done, you could tell.”

He held her closer and she ran her fingers up and down his arm, glad that they hadn’t fallen into their usual patterns and made love. If they did, they wouldn’t talk about Kaye Shelton or Dan or how when she woke up in a cold sweat, when she ever managed to get to sleep, she was rarely in the present but back in a moment, the first time Dan’s hand had connected to her face, or the time he’d thrown her so hard against the wall she’d blacked out, or the one time she’d have been able to leave him before things got too bad, or the time she’d woken up in the hospital and realized it was now or never.

**San Francisco, 1999**

Doug’s arm stayed around her waist as they walked into the Rusty Nickel. Three weeks with him back in town and it almost felt like a normal relationship. They went to dinner and slept late on Saturdays and played poker with his friends and went surfing with hers. Sara tried not to notice how things were going at work – what the girls Dan had on his leash said as she passed in the hallway, how the unis had left her alone at more than one scene, how her phone never stopped ringing. No, this time she was done. She wasn’t going back. She wasn’t letting him near her again. She finally had her footing under her and even though Doug was here, she hadn’t needed him around to come to this place in her mind. At least, that was what she told herself.

The Rusty Nickel was one of those rare dive bars that attracted all sides of law enforcement. From the feds to VICE to the lab guys, everyone hung out and did shots and were always surprised when Sara and the kids from the lab could drink the ATF agents under the table. The stools were splintered and cracked, the leather torn in places, and half the lights needed replacing. No one cared. It was Sara’s sanctuary. Dan hated the place. Sara was sure it was because he knew he couldn’t get away with anything with so many neutral witnesses around. Supercop just turned into a big baby when not surrounded by his posse.

“What’ll it be, Sara?” The bartender winked at her and Sara slid onto the stool. Doug stood behind her, close enough for her to lean back against his body. This felt good.

“Shot of tequila,” she flashed a grin, “to start.”

“This is why we like this girl.” The bartender walked away to get the drink and Sara tilted her head up to look at Doug. He looked back down at her and smiled and for the first time since Gil walked out of her life, Sara felt like maybe, just maybe, there might be someone else for her. Especially if Doug stuck around. If this sense of a normal relationship could continue. It was too bad her logical mind told her differently. But for just a moment, his smile made her forget everything else and she remembered why she’d accepted that first date and the second, and the third all the way back when they first met.

He touched her nose and she brushed his finger out of her face and when the bartender returned with the shot, Sara handed over her credit card. It was her turn to keep the tab open tonight. She downed her drunk, ordered a second, and spun on her stool to face Doug.

“Hi,” he whispered, meeting her eyes, and in the dim lighting of the bar, she could see that maybe, just maybe, he was feeling the same way she was. They’d come together for a reason, right?

His lips were on hers and Sara lost herself in the kiss. Her arms wrapped around him and he stepped between her legs and around them, the cops and feds hooted and hollered and she didn’t care because she had him. And maybe the next time Gil called she’d be brave enough to actually answer the phone and he’d be glad she had someone who was there, right? It wasn’t like he’d been celibate.

The kiss went on and on and she heard some of the guys counting out time and just for that, she kept kissing Doug, her tongue dancing with his, her hands holding tightly while his roamed her body. She tingled all the way into her toes and she wanted to drag him back to the car and pounce on him right there, before they made it back to her place – or his. But to do that she had to break the kiss and she didn’t want to. But eventually, she had to breathe.

The bar erupted into applause when they broke apart and Sara groaned, feeling the embarrassment flush up her cheeks. If they left now, though, they’d get another round of applause; there was a sense of honor to leaving the Rusty Nickel with everyone knowing you were heading home to get laid. How often had she cheered her friends out of the bar? This was how they blew off steam. This was what this little dive was for.

“Want to get out of here?” Doug’s voice was warm in her ear.

“What, and give them what they want?” She teased back.

“Why not? It’s heading there anyway, Physics.”

“I think that’s chemistry you’re talking about.” Sara winked and reached behind her for her shot. She downed it, set the glass on the bar and smirked at her … what was he? Was he again her boyfriend? “And yeah, let’s give them what they want.”

Doug kissed her again and Sara gave herself up to it, not caring about anyone but the man who was wrapping himself around her. When he broke away, she slipped off her stool and pressed against him. Behind her, she heard the sound of her receipt being slid across the bar. She turned, signed it, and then took Doug’s hand. Yeah, it was their turn to get cheered out of the bar and they’d only been here fifteen minutes.

She hadn’t seen the figure lurking in the shadows. She hadn’t seen him enter, or seen his reaction to the display, or seen how his fists tightened and his jaw clenched. She hadn’t seen any of it, she’d been so wrapped up in her NTSB agent. Nor did she see when he stepped forward. But, she did feel him grab her hair and pure animal instinct kicked in. She spun and landed a punch, but her efforts fell flat and Dan shoved her down. Her forehead connected with the bar, and somewhere her brain processed Doug’s shout of her name before everything faded to black.

***

  
Everything hurt. She could barely breathe and one eye wouldn’t open.

“Hey, Physics.” The voice hovered before her and she peeled her one good eye open, trying to focus on the man in front of her. He had a split lip and a black eye, but looked better for the mess than she did. “God you scared me. But the docs say you’ll be fine once you heal up.”

“What …” She was thirsty and licked her lips and the blur she recognized as Doug held a cup with a straw in front of her mouth. “What happened?”

“The idiot you can’t shake followed you to the bar, Sara. Do you remember?”

She shook her head and then instantly regretted the motion. Her stomach rebelled but she couldn’t vomit and she choked on the small bit of bile that rose in her throat. Doug was smoothing her hair back but everything hurt and all she wanted to do was scream.

“They’ll be back in to give you some morphine to help you sleep I think.”

Sara could only nod and close her eyes.

When she woke again it was easier to breathe and she could open one eye completely and the other part way. Doug was across the room in a chair, watching CNN, and from the look of things, he’d changed his clothes. When she coughed on her own spit he turned around and hopped up, walking over.

“You look better, Physics.”

“Thanks,” her voice was scratchy. “How long was I out?”

“Just 24 hours. Here, have some water.” He held out the cup and she was able to take it this time. “You’re tough as nails, you know that right? Broken rib, concussion, and a hell of a shiner and you still left him with a bruise he’ll be seeing for weeks.” Doug took the cup back and then took her good hand. “When you girls get hip to fighting back, there’s no stopping you.” But his voice was sad.

The bar was a hazy memory. She remembered the fight, well the start of it. Shadows coming at her and pulling her hair and getting a punch in before the world went to black. That hadn’t been her reason for fighting. It was instinct, fight or flight, and that time, she’d fought.

Doug stroked her hair back and then pulled back, “Look, Sara.” The tone in his voice made her stomach sink and he refused to move out of her eye line. “I stuck around to make sure you woke up okay, but your boss is going to come take you home.”

“What?” She was confused. What had she done wrong?

Her good hand was still linked with his and he raised her fingers to his lips and kissed them. “Sara, I have this problem. I could fall in love with you if I wanted to. I’m already half there. But I can’t stick around and watch you self-destruct. How long before you do what you did last time? Before you go back to Dan because you’re terrified that otherwise, he’ll kill you.”

“Doug … I …”

“How long, Sara?” He kissed her hand again. “Get out of San Francisco. Go take a job with any other lab in the country. Go … go save yourself. I’m begging you. Because next time, he’ll kill you.” He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “I’ll see you around, Physics. Let me know how you’re doing.”

He pulled back and walked away, leaving her alone in the room with CNN playing and her paranoia rising. What if Dan was right outside? Watching? Waiting?

Maybe, just maybe, Doug was right.

After all, even sitting here, watching the TV tell her what she was missing in the world, she knew she wouldn’t press charges.

_Continued in[Release](http://vega-voices.livejournal.com/79347.html)_


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